


tear me to pieces, skin to bone

by oisugasuga



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Assassins & Hitmen, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Hotel Sex, M/M, Slight Mentions of Blood and Violence, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 15:15:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17962982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oisugasuga/pseuds/oisugasuga
Summary: Suga’s breath is ragged in his chest. His lungs are thin, flapping, fluttering, beating things and they crowd against his ribs and they beg to be let out but he can’t. He can’t let them go.He can’t let Kuroo go."Fuck, Kou, please -" Kuroo’s lowered his voice now. It’s quiet and broken. It breaks Suga’s heart."They’ll kill you. Tetsu, they’ll kill you for not killing me. Please, God, please just do it. Just do it, please -"





	tear me to pieces, skin to bone

Suga shivers. It won’t stop. The shivering.

 

His teeth keep clacking together. His bones feel hollow, thin, breakable. His fingertips dig into the flesh of his arms and he can feel his nails piercing his skin but right now, the pain is the only thing keeping him grounded.

 

Rainwater drip drip drips down the back of his neck from his hair. It slithers down under his shirt, traces the curve of his spine — every knob, every line. 

 

He’s soaked. But it doesn’t matter.

 

What matters is watching that door. 

 

What matters is waiting for that knob to turn.

 

What matters is that Kuroo had held a gun to his head no less than an hour ago and yet here he is. Still alive.

 

Drenched and shivering and shell-shocked. But alive.

 

On cue, the doorknob turns. It turns and turns and turns and Suga is holding his breath but he’s not afraid.

 

If Kuroo had wanted him dead, he’d be buried already. Six feet under with a gunshot wound to his left temple.

 

Flickering, yellow, sickly light from the street outside bleeds across the cheap, worn carpet as the door opens. Muggy, hot, summer night air creeps into the chill of the gasping, wheezing air conditioning unit in the corner, right under those dirty, streaked windows.

 

Suga stands against the opposite wall. Two, twin-size beds lie between him and the polished shoes that step over the threshold. Two comforters stained with God knows what stretch across the space between him and the rain-soaked suit on the man who walks into the room.

 

Kuroo Tetsurō closes the door quietly behind him. He looks up and their eyes lock and maybe Suga should be angry.

 

Maybe he should be shouting or screaming or flying across the room to land a well-practiced punch to that pretty jawline.

 

But really, he’s just tired. Exhausted. His bones keep shifting from hollow bird bones to lead weights, dragging him down inch by inch into the pea-green, roadside-motel floor.

 

So he breathes a word. It’s really all he can manage right now. His suit clings to every inch of his body, making him heavier. Every square inch of him is drenched, extra weight.

 

"Why?"

 

Kuroo’s face is hidden in shadow now that the door’s closed. Suga hadn’t bothered to turn the lights on. He had taken the key card from Kuroo’s trembling fingertips down in the crappy lobby that smelled overwhelmingly of cigarette smoke and cat piss and he had walked robotically up the stairs to Room 311 and he had waited.

 

After checking the bathroom of course, flicking the shower curtain back to reassure himself it was empty. Then the miniature closet — nothing but two clothes hangers and a broken ironing board. Old habit.

 

There’s a rustle and then a click and Suga knows the door is locked. He watches Kuroo set a white, plastic grocery bag on the chipped table near the windows. Dinner, he thinks, if he had heard Kuroo right earlier.

 

Something hysterical bubbles up in the back of his throat at the thought of doing something so mundane as dinner when his world seems to be shifting, warping, right before his eyes. But he swallows it down and buries it deep. Old habit.

 

Kuroo answers him. His voice, in the dark, is shockingly intimate. It shouldn’t be.

 

But Suga can’t deny his body and its reactions. He can’t deny that after years of working side by side, the sound of Kuroo’s voice has started to feel like home. It’s started to feel safe.

 

It shouldn’t.

 

"I couldn’t. Koushi, I -"

 

Suga shudders, wraps his arms tighter around himself. "Stop," he chokes out. 

 

He doesn’t want to do this. Not now. Why _now_? Why couldn’t Kuroo have just pulled the trigger? Why couldn’t he have just put that bullet into the soft meat of his brain, cracked his skull open like an egg? 

 

"Why?" Suga hears himself breathe again. "Why, Tetsu? Why? _God_ , why couldn’t you just -"

 

"Because I love you!"

 

Kuroo’s voice is too loud, a gunshot crack in the small space. His words burn and all Suga can do is stare. His heart is a roar in his ears.

 

He had suspected. He had thought - he had _dared_ to think — but they can’t - they _can’t_ -

 

Suga’s breath is ragged in his chest. His lungs are thin, flapping, fluttering, beating things and they crowd against his ribs and they beg to be let out but he can’t. He can’t let them go.

 

He can’t let Kuroo go.

 

"Fuck, Kou, please -" Kuroo’s lowered his voice now. It’s quiet and broken. It breaks Suga’s heart.

 

"They’ll kill you. Tetsu, they’ll _kill_ you for not killing me. Please, God, please just do it. Just do it, _please_ -"

 

That’s his voice, breaking like that. That’s his own voice, half-sob and half-whisper. It wrenches up his throat and drags long nails through his vocal cords and twists them, breaks them, scratches and hurts.

 

God it hurts so bad. He keeps imagining Kuroo, his body crumpled on some floor, in some basement. He keeps seeing red. Kuroo’s blood, so much of it, everywhere. Punishment for not doing his job. Punishment for betraying Them.

 

"Shoot me," Suga hears himself say, so quiet and yet so forceful, each word bursting from between his numb lips. "Tetsu, you have to - you _have_ to -"

 

But he doesn’t have time to wonder if the neighbors can hear through the thin walls. He doesn’t even have time to finish his words.

 

Kuroo is across the room in three steps. Three strides is all it takes for him to be there, the heat of his skin radiating through his clothes. He smells like cigarette smoke, like cologne, like everything Suga has been yearning for… for longer than he can remember. 

 

He smells like coming back to a crappy, 24-hour motel after an assignment to pass out on a bed with too many springs and not enough mattress. He smells like driving for hours together, the windows rolled down, cross-country. He smells like every moment they’ve been together, every time they’ve held each other, shaking, on dirty bathroom tiles, clutching at each other with blood-stained fingers and the taste of death in their mouths.

 

The only thing keeping them grounded.

 

He smells like home.

 

Suga sucks in a breath, staring up at his partner. His friend. The only bright spot of light in this _hell_.

 

They don’t speak. But Suga doesn’t think they really need to. 

 

It’s all there, written on both of their faces. Even in the dark.

 

And Kuroo moves slowly. He moves slower than Suga has ever seen him move before. One trembling hand rising towards Suga’s cold, cold face.

 

He’s so used to watching that hand load a gun. He’s so used to watching those long, beautiful fingers wrap around a throat and twist and squeeze, break necks or gouge eyes. He’s seen Kuroo in the heat of a fight — powerful, fast, burning eyes and blood spattered over his angelic face.

 

He’s not used to this. This slowness. This _vulnerability_.

 

But he doesn’t move. He doesn’t turn away. Everything on Kuroo’s face matches everything beating so desperately at Suga’s insides. 

 

So he lets him touch him.

 

He lets Kuroo cradle his cheek, a whisper-touch against his skin. Slowly, slowly, slowly he lets his arms lower to his sides until they’re standing chest to chest. The air conditioning wheezes and creaks across the room. A door slams upstairs. 

 

Suga flinches at the noise and Kuroo’s other hand is there then, holding his face, cradling his head. Keeping him safe.

 

Something wet runs down Suga’s left cheek. He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Kuroo swipes a thumb under his eye, wiping the next one away.

 

"Shh," he breathes. "Shh, Kou, it’s okay. It’ll be okay."

 

"How?" Suga asks this time, lips trembling. He’s beginning to feel something now. Something painful. Something bigger than he is. "How could you possibly know that?"

 

That feeling expands. It pushes and grows and stretches out Suga’s skin. It wants out but it’s so hot, so strong. It scares him.

 

Kuroo’s beautiful golden eyes are so dark. They’re so dark and deep and so close, getting closer.

 

"I don’t," he says. The honesty in his voice settles Suga’s nerves, just a little. His teeth stop chattering, just a little. "But I won’t do it. I won’t follow their orders no matter the consequences."

 

His voice is just a murmur, but Suga hears the waves in it. He hears the tremble. "I can’t lose you, Kou. I _can’t_."

 

That’s when Suga really starts to cry.

 

_Don’t you understand?_ he wants to cry. _Don’t you understand? I can’t lose you either. I can’t. And I will, if you don’t._

 

But he doesn’t speak and the next thing he knows, his face is resting against Kuroo’s chest. There are arms around his shoulders, hands on his back. Suga cries, muffling his sobs in starched fabric. He holds on, with fingers so stained with blood he can’t remember the last time they had been clean. 

 

He can’t remember the last time the lines in his palms hadn’t run like red rivers down to his wrists. He can’t remember the last time his hands had shaken on a gun, index finger hesitating on a trigger. He can’t remember the last time he hadn’t checked the damn shower for an ambush.

 

Slowly, like everything seems to be going tonight — the drive back to the hotel in silence, the shuffling the clerk had gone through to get their room key, the walk up those concrete steps to Room 311 and the shivering that had slowly taken over his bones, the steady drum of rain on the windows — Suga stops. His breaths slow. His face grows dry.

 

His body slumps into Kuroo’s. His bones are hollow again, light. His lungs have stopped their flapping and fluttering — birds with no air struggling to get out. Now they lie still. They wait.

 

He looks up.

 

"Tetsu," is the one word that leaves his mouth, fluttering out into the dark gloom of the tiny space. "Tetsu, please."

 

He doesn’t know what he wants. He doesn’t know what he’s begging for.

 

But Kuroo answers his questions.

 

Suga feels the last of his resolve break, shatter, the moment Kuroo’s mouth presses against his.

 

Soft. Warm. Gentle. Slow.

 

Kuroo kisses Suga like he’ll break if he pushes too hard. He kisses him once, twice. Then three times, and Suga focuses on breathing, on nothing else but this.

 

Kuroo kisses his bottom lip, then his top. He kisses the corner of Suga’s mouth, pulls back to look at him and Suga feels like he’s been saved, just a little bit. He studies Kuroo’s face, both of them quiet.

 

And then… "Please," Suga whispers. His breath shudders through his lungs.

 

And Kuroo fits their mouths together again and finally, Suga moves. He moves and pushes back and God he wants this, he’s _wanted_ this, for so long. So long he can’t remember the last time he hadn’t looked at Kuroo and wanted.

 

It’s like lighting a match and throwing it into a tub of gasoline.

 

Gentle turns to hard. Slow turns to fast.

 

Suga kisses Kuroo and that hot, strong push in his chest swells and expands and all he can really do is crumple the front of Kuroo’s suit with his searching fingers, pull him closer.

 

Kuroo inhales against him, sharp and surprised, but he recovers fast. The way Suga knew he would.

 

The heat of Kuroo’s mouth is overwhelming. Their kisses are desperate, sloppy. Suga opens his mouth, lets Kuroo slide his tongue over the roof of his mouth and God all he’s ever wanted is this.

 

All he’s ever wanted is this comfort. It’s so new and so familiar at the same time. Suga can’t think, so he stops trying.

 

"Tetsu," he groans when strong, large hands dig into the dip of his spine, yanking him as close as they can get to each other, when Kuroo drags his teeth over Suga’s bottom lip.

 

"Is this -," Kuroo pants out, kissing down Suga’s jaw to his neck. "Is this okay?"

 

Suga nods, lets his head fall back against the wallpaper so Kuroo can lay open-mouthed kisses down his throat. He threads his fingers in Kuroo’s hair, keeps his eyes closed.

 

He’s trembling he realizes with some effort. Or maybe that’s Kuroo.

 

He can’t tell but it doesn’t matter.

 

All that matters is the heat of Kuroo’s palms through his clothes. The weight of him pushed up against Suga when he returns to kissing his mouth. The way he works Suga’s mouth back open, hot and wet.

 

"Come here," Suga whispers against him when it all begins to grow overwhelming — when his knees are beginning to weaken — and he grabs Kuroo’s hand, pulls him over to one of the beds, sits him down on the edge of it.

 

Kuroo has a hand at his waist as Suga stands between his legs. He raises his other one to cup Suga’s jaw again, looking up at him with eyes so dark Suga wonders if he could drown in them, disappear.

 

Disappear. He wants the two of them to disappear. Leave town. Find new names.

 

They’ve never had a home. They’ve never just stopped moving. And Suga wants to stop with every ounce of his being. He wants to come home.

 

He wants them to be okay.

 

"It’ll be okay." Kuroo smiles for the first time tonight, mouth quirking up just a bit at the edges. It’s grim and wry but it’s still that smile Suga loves.

 

And not for the first time, Suga lets his worries drop to Kuroo’s shoulders. It’s so easy. 

 

Even easier to let Kuroo trace down the curve of his right wrist to thread their fingers together, lets him hold his cold fingers. Fingers that he’s scrubbed at in so many sinks to get blood out of his nail-beds. Fingers that have held shovels to dig through cold, hard ground. Fingers that have tortured, maimed, killed.

 

He lets Kuroo hold those fingers with a hand that’s done just as much and he says one last thing.

 

"Okay."

 

Kuroo pulls him into his lap and Suga dips his head and threads his fingers in Kuroo’s hair and then they’re kissing again.

 

He straddles Kuroo’s hips, his wet suit and tie still dragging at his skin, and he holds on tight.

 

He pries Kuroo’s mouth open, slips his tongue into his mouth, grinds down into his lap and forgets about everything else.

 

Kuroo groans, hands holding Suga by the waist. "God, Kou. Jesus," he murmurs against Suga’s lips, breath hot on his skin and Suga tightens his fingers in Kuroo’s hair, moves their lips together, hard and rough and messy.

 

He relishes in the heat of Kuroo’s mouth, thoughts clouding over with pleasure when Kuroo bites at him again, nipping at his lip and then running his tongue over the marks apologetically. Suga rolls his hips again, harder this time, and Kuroo groans, low and quiet.

 

They’re crashing into each other now and Suga knows they can’t stop. Not now. Not after all of this time.

 

With muffled thuds, he hears Kuroo kick his shoes off and Suga breaks away for a moment to do the same before Kuroo has his hands in his hair and is pulling him back down, shifting farther up the bed.

 

His jacket follows quickly, Kuroo’s nimble fingers pushing it off of his shoulders before he begins to work on the buttons of Suga’s shirt and for a moment they just focus on getting undressed, on throwing their wet clothes into crumpled messes on the floor.

 

The next thing he knows, Suga is falling back onto the mattress breathless. He doesn’t remember when Kuroo had switched positions but he’s not complaining. The comforter scratches at his bare shoulders, but Kuroo distracts him from everything else entirely.

 

Everything else is subpar, irrelevant, compared to the man leaning over him, hovering over him on his elbows.

 

Things slow again. Suga reaches up, touches Kuroo’s winged collarbones with gentle fingers. Traces over silvery-white scars highlighted and edged by the light filtering in through thin, moth-eaten curtains.

 

Kuroo’s breath shudders in and out of his lungs when Suga’s fingers touch his ribs, slow, so slow. His stomach quivers, his eyes never leave Suga’s face. He can feel the heat of his gaze, constant and unwavering, and it turns his cold skin to something lukewarm.

 

Suga could map Kuroo for hours, just like this. He wants to taste him, wants to let his lips wander over the same paths his hands are following. So he leans up, pushes up on his elbows, pressing the flat of his tongue to Kuroo’s shoulder. 

 

And Kuroo tastes like salt, like something sweeter, under it all. Suga bites down, one hand rising to pull Kuroo down down down on top of him, his weight pushing him back into the mattress. He bites at Kuroo’s skin and feels the other man shudder and shiver against him and then groan and then there are long fingers back in Suga’s hair and his chin is being jerked up, lips claimed once more by Kuroo’s hot, seeking mouth.

 

They kiss like that, moving against each other, nothing but the sounds of their lips sliding together and broken breaths punctuating the heavy, summer air. Kuroo can’t seem to stop touching him everywhere, hands constantly moving — fingers running through Suga’s hair, palm pressed to his throat, then down, sliding over his chest, thumb circling a nipple.

 

And Suga wants more so bad it hurts. He needs more. There’s a heat coiling, building, swelling in the pit of his stomach. All of his senses have narrowed down to just this.

 

When Kuroo’s fingers edge under the elastic of Suga’s underwear, cold, he shivers, runs his hands down the planes of Kuroo’s back, throws his head back and lets Kuroo suck marks into his throat. When those same fingers wrap around his half-hard cock, Suga can’t help but moan quietly, low and needy.

 

"Tetsu," he pants, skin on fire. "Tetsu, God." His hips roll up, jerking up into the grasp Kuroo has on him, and the other man doesn’t waste any time. He shifts, moves a little, and then Suga feels both of them in his grip, sliding together.

 

His thumb swipes over Suga’s tip, smears pre-cum while his long fingers tighten into a fist, rubbing their cocks together. Suga hears the noises crawling up his throat as if from a distance. Whimpering, whining, sharp gasps.

 

He grinds up into Kuroo’s grip and Kuroo bites down at a pulse point and Suga sees nothing but the darkness behind his eyelids when he squeezes his eyes shut. His fingers dig into Kuroo’s shoulders, nails and all, and Kuroo bites down harder into his neck, licks over the spot, breathing hard against him, groaning.

 

"Koushi." Kuroo breathes his name like a prayer, pressed into his damp skin. He kisses his mouth, slides his fist in quick strokes around the both of them that have Suga writhing, fingers scrabbling for something to hold onto. Fire licks at his insides, spreads over every square centimeter. 

 

He says his name like a prayer but Suga doesn’t know to who. They’ve done too much. They only have each other.

 

All Suga needs, all he wants to have, is Kuroo.

 

And when Kuroo pulls back and Suga’s eyes crack open blearily to find him, all he sees is that pretty jawline and that dark hair and those honey-gold eyes he never gets tired of looking at and they’re dark with need and Suga is drowning in them, disappearing, every inch of him dematerializing.

 

"I love you," he breathes and when Kuroo kisses him in return — so soft, so loving — Suga almost feels like crying again.

 

But then Kuroo squeezes his hand, slows down to lazy, long strokes, agonizing and torturous, and Suga bites his lower lip hard enough to taste blood and gasps against his mouth, pleasure building into an unbearable weight in his stomach.

 

Everything is too hot. The air conditioning does nothing to cool his skin, to keep sweat from mixing in a light sheen with the rainwater still clinging to his hair, running down to drop and sink into threadbare sheets.

 

It builds and builds and builds, that heat, until Suga’s head is hazy with it, until he can’t control his breathing or the noises he makes, until it crescendos into a massive wave above his head and then crashes down, jerking through his body like he’s been shot.

 

He cries out softly against Kuroo’s lips, hips stuttering, when he tumbles over the edge and for a while there’s nothing but a distant ringing in his ears and the heat of Kuroo’s skin, the overwhelming pleasure of his lips still moving against Suga’s, hot and heavy, sucking whatever breath he has left from his ribcage.

 

Suga is floating. Kuroo keeps him grounded.

 

He comes to some sense of awareness a few moments later to realize Kuroo is still jerking himself off, fast and desperate, and Suga reaches down, pushes his hand away and replaces it with his own. He strokes him, fingers tightening, watches Kuroo’s face shift above him in a million different pieces, so beautiful, his breath panting out against Suga’s bare shoulder when he bows his head. Like he’s praying again.

 

"Come on," Suga breathes, kissing the corner of Kuroo’s mouth lightly, quickening his pace and twisting his wrist. " _Tetsu_."

 

And that does it. Kuroo’s face crumples, his orgasm washing over him, and Suga drags him down with his free hand to kiss him hard, swallowing Kuroo’s soft moan as he shudders and shivers against him and then slumps down completely.

 

_I love you. God help me, I love you so much._ The thought drifts through Suga’s head, slow and sure.

 

And while the rain slows and stops outside, while Kuroo turns his head and kisses the same words under his jaw, while Suga listens to their hearts crash and beat against each other on top of a mattress that’s too thin — on top of a future that’s so uncertain — he smiles, slow and soft.

 

He smiles and he finally comes home.

**Author's Note:**

> (‘﹏*๑) So a wonderful anon asked me to write KuroSuga last night and this is the result... I'm so sorry for the angst, but hey, it kind of had a happy ending?
> 
> Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it! Leave behind any thoughts or kudos *wink wink*
> 
> And as always, my blog can be found here --> [♥](http://oisugasuga.tumblr.com/)


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